


blue jean baby, LA lady

by harrapunzel



Series: rebel rebel [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Feminization, Fingering, M/M, Phone Sex, i've never done this before be gentle with me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 23:50:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8347639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrapunzel/pseuds/harrapunzel
Summary: Harry scans his eyes over his reflection from top to bottom and back again, feeling a familiar heat pooling in his belly. He pushes a slow breath through his nose and grabs his phone off the bedside table, dialing Louis' number, and holding it up to his ear. He closes his eyes."Haz?" Louis answers. "Everything okay?"Harry smiles to himself and nods even though he knows Louis can't see him. He speaks softly when he responds. "Yeah, Lou, everything's fine. Just wanted to talk.""What about?" Louis asks, uncertainty in his voice.Harry cuts to the chase. "I'm hard, Lou." He opens his eyes and looks to his crotch in his reflection. He turns to the side so he can see how the dress is tenting where his cock is hardening up. ///OR Gemma moves out and Harry gets stuck cleaning out her room.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ok hi i've never posted anything because i've never finished anything before (aka why this is so short) BUT idk here it is i guess i'm [rrystyls](http://rrystyls.tumblr.com) on tumblr so u can hmu over there be gentle with me

Harry thinks it's a bit suspicious how quickly his mum finished mourning over Gemma moving out. It's only been three weeks since she went off to live in London with her boyfriend and Harry's already being treated like a pack mule spending his Friday moving all of the things she left in her room into the garage while Mum and Robin are on a weekend trip to the coast.

Mum's always wanted a home gym, he figures.

"Fuck's sake, Gem," Harry grumbles, carrying a rather heavy box through the house.

He thinks two things when he enters the garage and proceeds to trip over his own feet: 1) He swears his feet are against him, and 2) This fall must be instant karma for cursing Gemma while she's not around to defend herself.

"Are you kidding me?" He says to the empty room. He's fallen forward, the contents of the box he was carrying spilling out onto the dusty garage floor.

He blows a piece of hair out of his face as he shifts to sit up, dusting off his jeans, and glancing around him. Apparently the box was full of clothes.

He moves onto his hands and knees, crawling over to the mess, and tipping the box right side up, dropping each garment back inside. He pauses when he picks up a denim dress, taking a few seconds to look it over, and feeling the thin material between his fingers. He looks around to check if anyone's watching him even though he knows he's home alone and carefully folds the dress, setting it atop his bike seat. He finishes picking up the rest of the clothes and putting them in the box.

Later, when he's showered and all's that's left in Gemma's room is her bed because fuck if he's moving that by himself, he returns for the dress, carrying it up to his own room. He locks the door behind him. You know, just in case.

Harry removes his dressing gown in front of the mirror and combs his fingers through his damp hair, shifting side to side to look over his milky skin.

He nods once and pushes out a huff before he's pulling the dress on over his head and smoothing it out over his chest and stomach. The denim is a bit tight across his shoulders and the sleeves reach the bend of his elbows while he swears they go down a bit further on Gemma but what could he expect, really. When his eyes wander back to his reflection, he's biting down into his lower lip. He's wearing a dress.

He always thinks about it, of course. What it means that he always finds himself wanting to wear feminine clothing. He knows there's nothing wrong with him wearing a dress. He knows clothes don't have a gender. He knows that what he chooses to wear doesn't make him any more or any less of a man. That doesn't stop him from being scared.

Harry scans his eyes over his reflection from top to bottom and back again, feeling a familiar heat pooling in his belly. He pushes a slow breath through his nose and grabs his phone off the bedside table, dialing Louis' number, and holding it up to his ear. He closes his eyes.

"Haz?" Louis answers. "Everything okay?"

Harry smiles to himself and nods even though he knows Louis can't see him. He speaks softly when he responds. "Yeah, Lou, everything's fine. Just wanted to talk."

"What about?" Louis asks, uncertainty in his voice.

Harry cuts to the chase. "I'm hard, Lou." He opens his eyes and looks to his crotch in his reflection. He turns to the side so he can see how the dress is tenting where his cock is hardening up.

Louis laughs. Prick.

"You know I left class to answer this call? And that I'll be there to make you come over and over again in a few hours? Hm?"

"I'm hard now," Harry says.

He can hear shuffling over the line which he assumes is Louis heading to the bathroom. "Alright, yeah. What's got you so worked up then, baby?"

Harry weighs his options. "I was thinking about the first time you ate my arse," he lies. "You wouldn't let me come. Just kept edging me for hours. Made me cry."

"It wasn't hours, babe, I don't think it was even one."

"Whatever. Felt like days to me." Harry wraps his hand around the base of his cock over the dress and the material bunches in his fist. "Wanted to come so fucking bad."

"Wouldn't let you, though, huh? And you were so good for me, did everything I said," Louis says, voice low. He doesn't give Harry a chance to respond before he's speaking again. "God, I love your little pussy so much."

Harry whimpers, Louis' words going straight to his cock. They've done this, the feminization, before, but Harry doesn't even know how to bring up that he wants Louis to fuck him while he wears a dress. His mouth won't say that he wants Louis to pull up his skirt and fuck him raw.

"So hot and wet and tight for me, Harry. Got my cock all hard just thinking about it," Louis rasps into the phone.

Harry finally steps away from the mirror in favor of lying down, pulling the skirt up to his stomach so he can wrap his fingers around his cock, giving himself a few slow strokes, using his precome to make it a smooth glide.

"Tell me what you want me to do, Lou," Harry says, shivering as he flicks his thumb over his slit.

He can hear Louis spit into his palm.

"Want you to suck on your finger, get it all nice and wet for your hole, yeah? Put me on speaker."

Harry does exactly what Louis says, setting his phone on the pillow next to his head, and begins sucking on his finger, moaning around it just so Louis knows he's doing it. After a little while, he's told to stop.

"Alright, is it all wet? Reach down and press it into your hole for me, Hazza, just the tip. Stroke your cock with your other hand," Louis tells him.

Harry can hear the wet smacking of Louis' hand on his cock and if he wasn't so turned on he'd tell him to be quiet.

Harry reaches down under his bum to press his wet fingertip against his hole, drawing circles over it before he's pushing inside of himself to the second knuckle, a loud sigh leaving him as the burn of the stretch settles into his bones. His free hand flies to his leaking cock once more to begin stroking himself steadily. "Mm, okay. Yeah, done."

Louis moans on the other line. "That's it, baby, feels so good, yeah? Give yourself more."

He pushes his finger in as far as it can go and slowly begins working it in and out in time with his fist on his cock, the lack of lube forcing him to keep his movements slow.

"I can't wait to see you, babygirl, can't wait to get my mouth on your pussy. Gonna eat you for hours this time-- for real." Louis' speaking fast so Harry knows he's about to come. If Harry wasn't so close himself, maybe he'd protest, try to make it last.

Harry's cock twitches in his palm as he tries to grind down onto his finger and fuck up into his fist at the same time.

"Wish you were here now," Harry breathes out, releasing his cock for as long as it takes to lick his palm before he's pumping his length again.

"Me too, baby. Gonna come," Louis growls out between grunts.

Harry is certainly too far gone to reach for his lube so he can work another finger into his arse so he just presses as deep as he can, moving his other hand from his cock to his balls, squeezing gently as he listens to Louis groan through his orgasm.

Louis doesn't say anything while he recovers, just breaths heavily into the phone. "Made me come so hard, thinking about your pussy, Harry," he says finally, voice rough even through the line.

Harry's hand finds his way back to his cock at that. It's all about him now, he knows. "Talk about my pussy some more, Lou."

Louis' smirk is apparent in his voice as he speaks. "Best thing I ever felt, baby. Best thing I ever tasted. I love it so much. Gonna make me a baby, ain't it? Your pretty, wet pussy. Makes me see stars when I'm inside."

Harry is coming before Louis even finishes speaking, strings of come covering the front of his dress, breaths of Louis' name the only thing leaving his mouth. Harry pulls his finger from his heat but he keeps milking his cock until it hurts. He vaguely registers Louis telling him to lick himself clean and brings his hand to his lips to suck the come from his skin.

"Tastes so good, I know it does. Wish I could eat it all off of you," Louis is whispering now as Harry sucks his fingers clean then finally lays his arms out at his sides, dopey smile finding its way onto his face.

"I love you, Harry," Louis pauses a few beats before continuing. "I have to get back to class, okay? Can't wait to spend all weekend with you. I love you," he repeats.

This time Harry responds, rolling onto his side to face his phone. "I love you too, Louis. I'll see you in a bit." Even he can tell that his voice is wrecked.

"See you, pretty girl."

The line goes dead and Harry is left to himself. After a while, he sits up and looks over himself, groaning at the mess he's made.

Harry gets himself undressed with little difficulty and rolls his shoulders as he pulls on a pair of trackies before heading to the laundry room to wash the dress.

If he folds it and puts it at the back of his bottom drawer when it's done in the dryer, well, no one has to know.


End file.
